


love, blake

by lithium_breath



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Beth Greene Lives, Beth Greene Sings, Beth Lives, Childbirth, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, Past Child Abuse, Pregnant Beth Greene, Prison, Protective Daryl Dixon, Running, Running Away, Sex, Smut, Survival, Swearing, They never find the group, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Walkers, Zombies, bethyl, escaping, mentions of rick and the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithium_breath/pseuds/lithium_breath
Summary: Sometimes, Daryl Dixon thinks he can still hear Beth Greene sing.[BETHYL ONESHOT]
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	love, blake

**I. Now**

By twilight, Daryl Dixon arrives home. 

He leaves his crossbow by the door as he always does; he has ceased to carry it around all the time on his back. He used to do it even when he was home, a long time ago, but his back and shoulders had now started to hurt. That’s what he tells himself, at least; he knows damn well that isn’t the only reason. The real reason is that he doesn’t want her to be scared, and that when he’s home, he’s home. He tries to think he’s safe at home.

Blake is fast asleep on the couch. Her nap time is usually by 3pm, not by almost 7 o’clock, but he lets her be. He loves her, but he also enjoys the quietness of these small moments when he can be just by himself without all the loudness. These quiet moments are almost none by now, that things have changed so much and that everything is always going on, something new happening, Blake taking everything from the world for the first time and discovering its beautiful things. Unfortunately to Daryl, his Dixon blood sometimes begs for some peace, and he still craves it. He still craves being alone.

Nevertheless, he loves the life that he has built.

As he sits down next to Blake, her eyes open and she smiles at him. She loves him so much that she can’t contain her excitement, struggling to get to his lap as fast as she can. Daryl laughs, which is unusual, and their eyes meet.

They’re blue, and her hair is blonde, and everything about her, from her small nose to the way her lips move to smile gently at him, everything reminds him that _everything_ in his life is so fragile.

Blake reminds him of how fragile _someone_ once _was._

‘Can you tell me that story again?’

Daryl raises an eyebrow.

‘Which one?’

‘The start.’

Blake is lucky Daryl Dixon knows _that_ story backwards.

**II. How**

It doesn’t start when the flames engulf the prison and swallow it whole, making them leave everything behind with them.

It doesn’t start when Hershel Greene dies in front of him, as he watches the way his eyes still twitch, how he’s still alive in a sick and twisted way, and how his teeth move and snap to bite him.

It starts when they are alone.

It starts when they both realize everyone they know is probably dead – and the ones that aren’t surely will be soon.

The first few days are spent in silence. Beth Greene knows Daryl Dixon can’t stand noise while Beth can’t stand silence. It’s hard for both of them to spend their days in a crowded car with few gas, the only thing on their stomach being canned mushrooms that are probably expired by now.

As Daryl gets to their safe house – the safe house that the group found a few months ago and kept hidden from other people, safely tucked in the woods – his stomach drops as he realizes no one is around. No one came running to the house like they did, no one saved themselves.

_Everyone is dead._

It’s on the thought that everyone is dead that they start living their lives. It’s on mourning the dead that Beth works on the garden in their small home – not their home, more like the house they share, the building that protects them from the elements and most importantly, from people and the Walkers. It’s always with them on her thoughts that Beth slowly yet surely builds a memorial; a memorial with flowers, with trimmed bushes and some carrots, eggplants and lettuce that Daryl managed to find around. It’s on the thought of living that she keeps things beautiful and that she builds the future. She plants a flower while saying prayers to represent everyone that they lost: her Daddy, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carl, Carol and Judith.

Beth doesn’t know if they’re dead, but it hurts less to think they are. At least she doesn’t have to live with the expectation that they’ll eventually come around.

It’s on the small things that their routine falls into place. Daryl keeps them alive and Beth keeps them living with little things; in the way she dusts the house around and keeps it decorated and tidy, in the way she cares of Daryl’s vest that he uses on a daily basis, in the way she has the table ready for their meals every single day at a certain time of the day. It’s in the way she always says thank you, and smiles, and hums a song at night, that Daryl is sure that Beth Greene is the one keeping him alive during the apocalypse.

Beth is sitting on the old swing chair of their porch, reading a book and with a mug of instant coffee in her hand – thank god for the pantry that was already stocked – when Daryl starts coughing.

At first she thought it was the cigarettes; he has always been an avid smoker, but something just tells her that it’s not it.

‘Are you okay?’ She asks; they don’t usually talk. They avoid talking because they know they have nothing in common. Beth doesn’t talk because she doesn’t want to bother; Daryl doesn’t talk because he thinks Beth shouldn’t hear his loud and dirty mouth speak. He nods his head; he doesn’t feel really good, he can feel it in his bones that something is going on, but he can’t talk. He doesn’t want to talk. So he nods, and she looks at him with her big, blue eyes, like she _knows_ that something is not okay. ‘Why don’t you go rest for a while?’

Daryl refuses to rest. He refuses anything that might make him let his guard down, so he ignores as the blonde tries to change his mind into going to bed. It’s impossible to get through the thick skull of Daryl Dixon, so it’s only at dinner that Beth gets _really_ worried. Daryl Dixon is usually grunting or muttering under his breath but he’s never, ever, coughing a lung out and _looking_ like he was having trouble breathing. He was trying to ease it, probably trying to get it under control so Beth wouldn’t get worked up, but she had worked with her Daddy for a long time. Beth and her big, attentive blue eyes could see the way Daryl’s nostrils widened when he tried to breathe; she had no trouble in identifying the high-pitched whistling coming out of Daryl’s airways everytime he exhaled; as her trained eyes identified the way his chest moved everytime he _tried t_ o take a breath, that was enough for Beth Greene.

‘We’re getting you to bed, Daryl.’ Daryl was about to literally growl at her and tell her to mind her own business, but he wasn’t able to as the words literally got stuck on his throat. ‘Don’t you be trying to growl at me, Dixon! C’mon, we’re getting you upstairs.’

Getting Daryl Dixon upstairs was difficult; by the way he was trying to breathe, Beth could realize that he would definitely have trouble getting oxygen to all his body parts and to his brain, so she was sure he would just fall apart as soon as he got up. So with everything she had in her tiny body, she snaked one arm around Daryl’s waist.

He tensed under her touch. He didn’t like touching. He was used to her being around and he was used to _having_ her around, but he wasn’t used to be touched around. He wasn’t used to it and he absolutely despised it.

Coming from the youngest Greene though, it didn’t look wrong. She had always been like that: caring, touchy, gentle. He reminded himself of all the times she cared for the babies in the prison, the way she cuddled with Little Ass Kicker, the way she would hug and kiss the forehead of the kids who fell and got hurt at the prison; Beth Greene had always been like that, always ready to help whoever in need. Maybe her Christian Daddy had taught her that – after all, Hershel was a good man.

Her hand grabbed his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder as Daryl got up. She felt small under his touch. He was trying hard, harder than he had ever tried, to keep himself upright. He had been sitting down for a while because he couldn’t, _for the love of god_ , catch his damn breath. But it was even worse while he was standing.

Beth didn’t know how she was able to get Daryl upstairs. She wasn’t going to let him sleep on the couch – it was too cold downstairs and the couch was terrible on his back, he had been sleeping there for a long time anyway. She kicked the door with her foot, even though it was already open, and sat Daryl on her bed.

She took a look at him. He didn’t look good. He was sweating – maybe he had a fever, she didn’t know – and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Beth had to do something, she just didn’t know what.

She did the basics. She took his boots off, while a very pissed off Daryl tried to stop her as he grunted and tried to literally run away from her with the little strength that he had left. She gave him the eye that she usually gave to the kids back at the prison, and he was quiet and finally came to a stop. She helped him lay down against a few pillows; she knew that having his head and chest elevated would help him breathe better.

And then she ran to the bathroom.

The first aid kit was there. Maybe he had caught a bug or something on the woods – she didn’t know. Maybe it was the Flu, maybe it was an infection like the one back at the prison. She didn’t know what was going on with Daryl Dixon, she just knew that she couldn’t lose him. And it wasn’t because if it weren’t for him, she would die. No, she knew that she couldn’t survive a world like this, she wasn’t strong, she wasn’t built for a world this bad, but it wasn’t because of _that_ specifically.

Daryl Dixon was the only family that she had. She didn’t have anyone else – everyone they knew was dead. It didn’t make any sense for Beth Greene to live in a world without the rest of her family. The only reason why she was still holding it together was because Daryl was alive – if something were to happen to him, she would rather be dead too.

But she wouldn’t let him die, no. He had taken care of her so many times, not only on the road but also at the prison, and even at the farm. He had always been there for her, for her family, to protect them for whatever threat was coming at them. Daryl Dixon didn’t like to be taken care of, but Beth Greene was stubborn. She was stubborn and she cared. And that was enough.

The first aid kit had some antibiotics, which was good – maybe Daryl had really caught something. She didn’t know, but she was desperate. The antibiotics were something, at least. She grabbed those and some water, and decided that their next run would be to get Daryl an inhaler – she couldn’t care less for his stubbornness, if he didn’t get any better she would be the one to go and get him one.

And steam – maybe steam would make him feel better. She remembered how her mother used to boil water so Shawn – who was very allergic to pollen – could inhale the steam. He would instantly feel better after, so maybe that was something she could do for Daryl. She would find some way to boil the water, she was sure. She had lived in a farm her entire life, for fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be that hard to find a way around things.

Beth ran back to the room. Daryl was still gasping for breath but he didn’t look as bad. She put another pillow under his head – hearing a lot of complaints about it, but not caring – and kneeled next to the bed.

‘I’m going to try to boil some water so you can inhale the steam, it will make you feel better.’ Daryl raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t answer nor objected. Maybe he didn’t have the strength to. ‘If you don’t get any better by tomorrow, I’ll try to find you an inhaler.’

Daryl didn’t answer her. He just kept looking at her like he was looking for something in her eyes, like he was searching for a hint of hope in her eyes that he would be okay – but he would be. She knew that. Daryl Dixon was invincible, and he would be fine.

‘Beth,’ He called her. She was about to get up to try to find way to boil the water when he stopped her. ‘If somethin’ happens-’

‘No.’ Beth replied stoically, her voice trembling just with the thought of that. ‘You’re going to be just fine, Daryl. Nothing’s going to happen.’

‘Ya have to. Promise me ya will.’

She wouldn’t. Beth wouldn’t. She would never be able to kill Daryl Dixon. She wasn’t strong enough for that.

So instead of answering, Beth sat down next to him and sang.

There was nothing else she could do for Daryl Dixon.

»»

The snow arrives unexpected.

It wasn’t unexpected for Daryl. He started sensing it on his left side, the coldness of the snow screaming through the scar that had been pierced through his side a few years ago, as he was looking for someone that was dead a long time ago.

The snow arrived unexpected for Beth, though; the scar on her wrist usually didn’t let her feel the weather or the arrival of the cold times. Her scar was always cold, anyway, haunting her with the memories of a girl that she had left behind. A scared, little girl that she wasn’t anymore.

The arrival of the white substance was bittersweet. It destroyed Beth’s garden, the flowers that reminded her so much of her loved ones. It destroyed her small crops that they had both grown to love and got used to measure every week, to see how much they had grown. It destroyed the only thing that kept Beth useful.

For Daryl, it bothered him. The animals avoided the snow, they would rather hide in their caves than come outside. And that meant that they had to be careful with their food and their supplies if they wanted to survive the winter.

Beth was on her usual spot on the porch. She had cleaned up the whole porch and the stairs, the snow sticking to it now resting on a pile that she had gathered. Everything was still slippery, and cold, and wet, but Beth would rather stay outside. The fresh air burned her lungs as she inhaled. As she saw Daryl coming out from the forest, wood in his hands so they could get the fireplace going, she immediately got up, careful not to slip and make a scene in front of him.

‘Oh, you brought wood!’ She chirped in, her voice always in the same tone: happy. She was always happy, like she was thankful that the world had gone to shit, always humming some song, always singing if she could. ‘Let me help you!’

Daryl grunted.

‘Still needs t’ dry. Don’ need ya help Beth, go rest.’

She was a stubborn little thing though; she didn’t care that he acted all rough around the edges and pretended to be bothered everytime she tried to help. She _needed_ to help. They all had jobs to do, of course, and hers was helping Daryl Dixon.

‘Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that!’ She whined, but Daryl simply grew something that looked a lot, to Beth Greene, like a damn smirk, and he just put his arms up, the wood going higher and away from Beth’s grasp. ‘Daryl!’

‘I said, go rest.’ He repeated, now going up the steps without giving a damn about her trying to help.

The audacity of this man! She hugged herself, mad and cold and with little to no interest in resting; Daryl always pulled all the weight around the house, he always did everything – he kept them fed, clothed and warm, and all she did was… all she did was being there. Whenever she tried to help, he didn’t let her!

Beth wondered if Daryl hated being stuck with her. She wondered if she were that bad of a person to hang around with.

She was never that good at making friends at school, let alone making friends in the middle of the apocalypse, but one thing she knew for sure: everyone liked snow.

Before she could stop herself, she caught the snow between her hands; it felt stupidly cold, but it also felt good to feel something – it meant that she was still alive. She grabbed more snow, making a snowball probably bigger than she had anticipated, and without giving it a second thought, she threw it at Daryl.

Beth wasn’t expecting to hit him right in the head.

Daryl Dixon was more than surprised when he turned around and Beth Greene was in the middle of snow, laughing at his hair now covered in snow. And she looked beautiful.

She looked angelic doing it; her pale – yet now healthy – complexion looked beautiful with all the snow around her. He realized someone flakes of snow were now blending into her hair, melting as soon as they touching it; he couldn’t help but feel astonished at the show of pale colors surrounding her, so beautifully orchestrated. She was wearing the poncho that used to be Daryl’s, covering her literally to her knees and keeping her warm enough to be having a good time playing with snow. He had brought her the boots she was now wearing from one of his previous runs and he was sure that she was wearing some furry socks under them. Beth Greene was happy.

So Daryl Dixon had no problem dropping the wood and grabbing a handful of snow to absolutely destroy Beth Greene.

Her shrilling screaming and laughing would have once worried him; he would probably tell her to shut up back then, but he just couldn’t bring his heart to do it as he himself was also having fun. He kept throwing snow at her and she kept trying to dodge, laughing hysterically and trying to grab snow to throw it back at him.

The hours passed as she ran away from him and he ran away from her, their clothes wet with ice and snow and everything in between; for some hours, it was just the two of them hanging out in the yard. It had always been the two of them, but it hadn’t always been the two of them alone.

Something felt different now.

They make a snowman. It doesn’t have any buttons to make up for a mouth and eyes and it doesn’t have a carrot as a nose, but they can imagine.

Beth can already imagine living with Daryl for the rest of her life.

Daryl can’t imagine living a life without Beth.

»»

It’s one of those cold nights, when the fireplace is working at its maximum and Beth is lying on the couch reading a book as Daryl is smoking a cigarette, that she has one of _those_ thoughts.

She’s sad. She can’t help but being sad, sad about something that she doesn’t even know what it is. Maybe it’s because it’s the end of the world, maybe it’s because she lost her entire family back at the hands of a killer or if it’s because she’s just her – small, fragile and sad Beth Greene who had tried to kill herself once. She doesn’t know why she’s sad, but it bothers her.

‘Can hear ya thinkin’ from here.’ He mutters; Beth doesn’t know how he’s capable of doing it, but he is. It’s like their brains are connected in a weird way.

Beth leaves the book to rest in her lap. She stares at their yellow ceiling, and she’s about to open her mouth and spill her thoughts when Daryl Dixon sighs and gets up, opening one of their kitchen drawers. She raises an eyebrow.

‘Need a drink, if ya gonna start a monologue ‘nd shit.’

Beth pretends to be mad at his attitude, but can’t help but let out a little laugh as he hides a smirk. He sits on the carpet and hands her a glass, a transparent drink that she doesn’t recognizes in his hand and she realizes she isn’t that mad anymore. He fills his glass and after she stares at him with her big, blue eyes for a while, he gives her something too. She doesn’t drink, simply holding the glass between her fingers. Beth realizes Daryl is looking at her, eager for her to continue, and so she speaks. 

‘I wish I could just… change.’

‘Ya did.’

Beth lets out a small, sad chuckle; Daryl has always been the one to bring people up, even though he doesn’t know it. He’s good at that – he’s good at making people feel better with themselves even though he doesn’t seem to realize it. He just does it for the goodness of his heart.

‘Not enough; not like you. It’s like you were made for how things are now.’

Daryl doesn’t tell her that he’s used to the world being dark and sad around him. He doesn’t tell Beth that for him, it always felt like he was running away in the end of the world, like he was running away from something that he didn’t even know it existed.

And he didn’t tell her not because he didn’t want to share that with her, but because Beth didn’t have to listen to him complaining. She deserved the best.

‘I ain’t the good guy, Beth.’ That’s what he mutters, because that’s true – he’s not the good guy. He has done some shit in his life that he wishes he hadn’t. So he goes for his drink, and he drinks it like he means it. He realizes Beth is drinking too, and he wonders when he should stop her.

‘You are.’ She replies back, her eyebrows furrowed and her tongue sticking to her mouth as she drinks the liquid substance – and immediately regrets it, but that doesn’t stop her. ‘You are good, Daryl. You’re a good man.’

Daryl Dixon suddenly wants to smile.

‘Maybe ya gotta keep on remindin’ me sometimes.’

But Beth is suddenly grinning.

‘No. You can’t depend on anybody for anything, right?’

He remembers. He remembers everytime he told her that she couldn’t just _wait_ for a knight in shining armor to appear and save her for all the bad things in the world. He remembers how he screamed at her, how he _broke_ things and how he could perfectly hear her heart breaking at the thought of everyone she had loved, dying.

_Dead._

But they all were; they were all dead and there was nothing they could do. Beth couldn’t wait for her knight because there was no knight.

Everyone they knew was dead.

Daryl grinned a little – maybe it was the booze with the lack of eating, he didn’t know – and thought about reminding her that she could depend on him. He would never let anything happen to her, and not because she was Hershel’s daughter, not because she was Maggie’s sister, not because she was younger than he was: he would never let anything happen to her because she was Beth.

And that was enough.

The hours inside the cottage were like minutes to them. They never talked much between them, but things were changing. Just like the weather outside, things were changing again between them. So they talked. Daryl talked about Merle, about their waste of a father and how much he missed his mother; Beth didn’t talk much about her personal life and her familiar home, since it was way better than Daryl’s, but she talked a lot about herself: about her hopes and dreams, about her wants for the future. Daryl realized, with a pang in his heart, that they would have never met if it weren’t for the apocalypse.

When he realized how much that actually hurt him, he realized he was just drunk. Very, very drunk.

Daryl was wasted. He wondered if he would see dragons at any point, since malnutrition and booze were probably a really bad combination. The fire had already gone out and Daryl couldn’t find, for the love of anything, the will to get up and get the fire started again. Maybe that would be a bad idea though; fire in closed spaces and sleeping people had never been a good idea, not even before the world went to shit.

Beth was awake. Apparently she couldn’t sleep, but he knew the Moonshine had knocked her out a few minutes ago. She looked confused about her surroundings, but then she spotted Daryl.

‘I’m cold.’ She complained; it was understandable. The fire was out, it was cold outside and she had been sleeping in the carpet without anything covering her. Besides, the alcohol was probably starting to sweat out of her system as she was sleeping.

Daryl really wanted to get up and get her a blanket or get her upstairs, but he knew that as soon as he got up, he was going down.

‘Get a blanket.’ He muttered, more to himself than to her, but Beth was a strong willed woman, and she didn’t want no damn blanket. She crawled her way next to Daryl. He raised an eyebrow, confusion drawing his features, until she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

He tensed.

‘You’re warm.’ She said – more like moaned – and he tried to keep his thoughts pure and steady as he breathed in and out. He was aware of her blonde hair being way too close, way too close for his liking and for his ability to control himself, but he didn’t say anything as her eyes travelled to his face. ‘You’re beautiful too.’

Daryl thought he was hallucinating. Maybe not dragons, no, but maybe he would hallucinate with Beth Greene (which, to be fair, was better than hallucinating about Merle). He didn’t answer; there was no answer to a hallucination, so he just shrugged his shoulders, making Beth laugh. Her doe-like eyes kept staring at him, its blue penetrating his, like she was reading him, like she was just waiting for a breach in his thoughts to say something.

But she didn’t.

Beth Greene never said anything to Daryl Dixon, not a word. She was silent.

She was silent as she joined their lips in a small, gentle kiss that anesthetized his entire body, his entire being. Daryl’s breathing stopped, a grunt got stuck on his throat.

And then the only thing he felt was Beth Greene falling asleep in the crook of his neck.

The next day, they didn’t talk about it. Daryl thought Beth didn’t remember.

Until she started sleeping on the living room with him, every night, instead of going up to the bedroom to sleep by herself, Daryl thought Beth didn’t remember.

Daryl Dixon thought Beth Greene had forgotten entirely about their kiss, until she started holding his hand when she was reading a book while lying on the sofa, humming some song between her lips, with Daryl smoking at her feet.

Right there and then, Daryl Dixon knew that Beth Greene remembered.

»»

‘Claimed.’

Beth was a stupid, stupid girl. She knew she was stupid as soon as she heard the word coming out from a man’s voice. A man’s voice that didn’t belong to Daryl.

She had grown way too used to Daryl’s voice. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, she liked it. She liked it a lot. So Beth kept Daryl’s voice in her brain, wanting to have it carved in her memories whenever she needed it; whenever she needed it to feel safe, she would think about Daryl’s voice and everything would be alright. Even though the world was fucked up, Daryl was the one thing that was stable and that was sempiternal – because Daryl was going to be the last man standing.

Beth had been a stupid, stupid girl. Daryl had told her multiple times that she needed to be careful while he was gone – that she needed to watch out for people and walkers and other dangers, and that she weren’t to be out enjoying her daily activities like she was in the normal world when he wasn’t there anymore.

But the snow was gone, and Daryl had gone hunting, and Beth wanted to see if she could still save their garden – their garden full of beautiful flowers that reminded them of the fallen, of their family that was gone but would always be with them.

And she had been stupid, and now there were three men armed to the teeth looking at her like she was prey. And she probably was, in a world like this.

‘Excuse me?’ She managed to mutter out, not really knowing the meaning behind “claimed” – and even doubting if she really wanted to know what the hell it meant.

‘Didn’t know bitches like you still walked on this earth, baby doll.’ One of them spat out, walking towards her with careful, steady steps. Beth soon realized that this wasn’t the first time that these men were doing something like this, and they were probably dangerous. No, they _were_ really dangerous. ‘Someone’s got you locked up in that cottage of yours, doesn’t it?’

Beth wasn’t going to tell them about Daryl. Even though she trusted him with her life, he was only one and they were three, armed to the teeth and with nothing to lose. She wouldn’t put Daryl through that, no. She could only hope that they would take her quick. She wouldn’t go without a fight, no; that wasn’t Beth Greene.

‘This isn’t your property.’ She stumbled in her own words; Beth had never been good with words, let alone when she was scared. ‘I think you should leave.’

Before Beth could react, one of the man was pulling her long hair, hurting her scalp and grabbing her throat with his other hand. She eyed at his crotch; she could try to kick him, but she wondered if she would be fast enough.

‘Don’t you ever, _ever,’_ He spat out, his face way too close for Beth’s liking, ‘Tell me what to fucking do. Do you fucking understand?’

A large grin appeared on Beth’s face as an arrow flew through the air, and then chaos.

The only thing that Beth kept in her mind as she kicked him in the crotch and stabbed him with the knife, was that she would never let her first human kill eat her from the inside.

Because Beth wasn’t a scared little girl anymore; she was a survivor, and she would never let anyone touch her family ever again.

»»

Daryl and Beth had been away for too long – they had been stuck in their little paradise on earth way too much time, and they didn’t really realize how things had changed. How the world didn’t see women the way it once did. Daryl was used to it, though – he was used to women being violated, being hurt, being treated like cattle and scum. Because that’s everything he saw when he was a child and everything that Merle taught him – that women were disposable.

For Beth Greene, with her 18 years old of roaming the earth and her eyes full of hope and sunshine, that was harsh. She was glad that she had Daryl with her, though. He would never let anything happen to her.

But they couldn’t stay there.

After what happened, Daryl Dixon had promised himself that he would never mingle with another group, that they would never talk to other people, that he would never let anyone look at Beth again.

That is, until Beth’s foot got stuck in a trap and a group of people found them trying to set her free. The leader was a woman and that soothed Beth’s fear. Men in a position of power now scared her more than anything. For Daryl, what scared him was Beth being hurt and at risk. After all, the blonde needed to rest and they needed to eat. There was no way they would get to a safe place before night, and Daryl was scared of spending the night in the woods for the first time in his life. And he knew it was because she was at his side.

Beth always saw the good in people, so she decided to trust this woman. She decided to trust her and they followed her to a place that had been once a camping club, as she explained them. That would explain the tents and the bungalows scattered around.

This woman’s vibe was weird. Weird in Daryl’s opinion, of course, because Beth was eyeing one of the bungalows like her life depended on it; she really needed to sleep and he really needed to check her foot.

‘What do you think about keeping this bungalow and go rest for a while?’ The woman asked – Helen, she had introduced herself as – opening the door to the small house. Beth was clinging to Daryl for dear life, hoping and begging that he would just accept it. Something in his gut was telling him to leave and to tell the woman to fuck off, but he couldn’t quite understand what was so wrong with the camp. He looked around. There were many women around, yes, and they eyed them curiously but they didn’t say anything, their heads low as they continued working on their tasks, which was currently making dinner. There were men too – and the men were what bothered him. They were looking at them, of course, and they were probably also looking at Beth. _That_ was a no-no.

But Beth was begging him to go inside. He could almost hear her in his own mind begging him to get some sleep, to let them just rest and trust these people even if he didn’t want to. So he didn’t say anything; he simply nodded while Beth thanked them for the accommodations, and that was it.

They had one bed, a table and a kitchen without a fridge. And that had been better than enough for them.

Beth kissed him. He was now used to her stealing him kisses, little pecks on the lips and leaving with a smirk on her own lips like she had done something really sneaky and extraordinary, but this was different. This was a desperate, scared kiss. His muscles stiffened and he grabbed her by the waist – first he grabbed her with the intention of pushing her away, but then she was close. Too close.

It started with him burying his head on her neck; she was hurt, she was covered in layers of dirt and sweat but she could still smell divine to him. He pressed his nose further into her skin, breathing deeply and letting his fingers wonder.

Beth’s skin was burning, and she had never felt so alive in her entire life. She grabbed his hair and pressed their bodies harder against each other like that was even possible. Beth let out a shaky breath as Daryl lifted his hands until they were caressing her belly; she realized she needed his lips. Maybe he could read her mind, she didn’t know, because a second later their lips were colliding and his big hands were pressing in the back of her thighs, his strong arms raising Beth. She let out a shrill of surprise, releasing a laugh immediately after and wrapping her legs around him, her foot hurting but the blonde not caring. 

Her hands started messing with his belt when Daryl let out a grunt and backed away. She raised an eyebrow, still panting, but he merely smirked.

‘Get yaself in bed, Greene.’ At least he still knew when to stop. And that was when he was supposed to stop. He didn’t want Beth to think that she had to do something just because he helped her out of a bad situation. He wasn’t her knight in shining armor and he didn’t want to be treated as such. She wasn’t very happy with him, though. ‘Still needed to check ya foot. I’ll be back.’

Daryl was sure it was still a few minutes after dinnertime – his gut was telling him that it was still 9pm and that he would still learn a lot about these people by just standing by the door of the bungalow smoking a cigarette. He needed to understand what was wrong with them. Leaving Beth behind to sleep and rest, he sat on the stairs leading to the door of their new house, and lit up a cigarette.

Helen was quick on her feet to join him – he didn’t even see her coming, but he heard her.

‘How are you settling in?’ The woman asked, her voice gentle as she watched Daryl carefully. She had been nothing but nice and civil and yet, he still couldn’t trust her.

‘Good.’ He replied; he was never a man of many words.

‘Are you thinking of staying?’ Daryl’s head snapped in her direction. He was only thinking of staying one night, not really _staying._ He could only hope that Beth was inside sleeping and that she hadn’t heard anything.

‘Don’t know.’ He replied, biting back a _“fuck you, I don’t trust you”_ for the sake of Beth. ‘Not the one in charge.’

Helen laughed at him; it was ridiculous to think that Beth was the one in charge, but that was true. She was the one to make the calls and he would do anything for her. It wasn’t like there was anything worth anymore in their world, anyway.

‘I see that you were taught to worship your woman.’ Daryl wanted to laugh at her statement, remembering in his head everytime his father hurt his mother and everytime he had seen Merle treating women like shit, but he couldn’t really let his façade be found. So he simply nodded. Helen didn’t seem like she was giving up. ‘She’s really young for you. It’s sad that girls need to make decisions like those on this new world.’

Daryl almost snapped his neck; he looked at Helen like she was a nut, like she was a case worth studying, like she had gone absolutely mental. He only realized that the cigarette had dropped from between his fingers when he was about to take a drag and found nothing.

‘What d’ ya mean?’ He asked, his voice suddenly stuck on his throat. Helen sighed.

‘It’s okay. A man has his needs and taking care of a woman is hard enough. I understand. It’s the same all around here, you know.’ Helen pointed to the group of women and men working, and Daryl gulped in somewhat fear. ‘They do whatever the men want, and they stay alive. It’s not good but… at least they’re still alive, right?’

_Right?_

The words echoed in Daryl’s mind. His stomach hurt at the thought of Beth doing _something_ so a man could protect her.

They couldn’t stay there. Daryl would never let anyone touch her. She would always be by his side, but he didn’t really know what were to happen if he were to die – if something happened to him, Beth would be at their mercy.

‘Right.’ Daryl answered, the words burning in his mouth. He was getting better and better at lying. He needed to leave. ‘Should go inside. Girl’s probably waitin’.’

Helen smiled at him, seeming to buy whatever Daryl had said. He closed the door behind him.

The world wasn’t a safe place for someone like Beth Greene anymore. It wasn’t a safe place for women anymore, let alone when those women were as beautiful, as alluring, as interesting and kind as Beth Greene. Her blonde hair and blue eyes would be like a magnet to every single man living there.

He didn’t want to be part of a place that treated women like cattle. He had had enough of that in his life.

Beth was asleep in the bed. Daryl caressed her hair in hopes that she would wake up, and she did. She grabbed his hand, his hand so bigger and dirtier than hers, and she intertwined their fingers.

‘You coming to bed?’ She asked, a smile drawing in her features. And Daryl wanted – he really wanted to sleep next to her, just sleep, just _be_ for a moment. But they couldn’t.

‘We gotta go, Beth.’ He whispered. ‘We gotta go.’

»»

They keep moving. They keep moving for what felt like weeks, but in reality turned into months. And months turned into years. It was never easy on the road. It was never easy knowing that they had to leave everytime they got to a new place, everytime they found something new – something new and great always meant temporary for them. Daryl liked to think that everything was against them and that the world had turned into nothing, while Beth liked to think that they were to stay moving because it wasn’t their time to stay put. And when it was time to find their home, they would know.

They stayed together on the road. Beth liked to kiss him, Daryl liked to be kissed. He never initiated contact, however. He never went for it first, and he never touched her without her touching him first. They had shared some secrets on the road – some secrets whispered and moaned in the dead of the night, as everything around them was dying. As everything around them was dying, they tried to make something new out of it. Daryl liked to explore Beth’s body; he liked the way she bit her own lip whenever he let his fingers wander to places that she herself had just started to discover; his touch brought Beth the awakening that she needed, that she craved, but it also brought Daryl intense pleasure. It wasn’t just touching, and caressing, and kissing, and breathing hard and grunting – there was a dangerous feeling blossoming between the two of them that Daryl couldn’t deny.

But Daryl didn’t care. He found his home in Beth’s shoulder blades.

Until Beth found their home in a Church.

Beth had gone to Church a lot back in the days. She never found particularly anything interesting about it, but Daddy was a very devoted man and he liked it a lot. Beth didn’t care about Religion, but she definitely loved how beautiful the buildings actually were and liked to know how they were built.

The Church looked like it had never been touched; it was a sacred place, of course, but even the most beautiful places on earth had been tortured by the end of the world. It was locked from the inside, Daryl noticed, as he tried to take one of the doors down with his shoulder. Beth helped him, and they were soon in.

Daryl didn’t spare a look at the Church itself; he wanted to check the attic and the basement to see if there was something worth taking or if they could simply stay there for the night. Beth was faster, though. Even though Daryl had always been faster, she was in the basement in a few seconds, and they realized it had been totally transformed into a small house. There was a bed, a table, a couch and a small kitchen. As Daryl searched the place for Walkers, Beth opened the pantry.

It was full. It was full of everything: from rice to pasta, from cookies to cereal, they had everything. Everything had carefully been stocked and it was carefully placed, almost begging someone to take it.

Daryl was scared. He had seen some shit back on the road and he didn’t know if he could trust it; he really didn’t. Beth was already putting cookies and cereal on her backpack when a note flew from inside the pantry.

They shared a look. Beth was the one to grab the note with her shaky hand, and read it out loud.

_To whoever this note reaches,_

_Stay here and breathe. You have everything you need._

_God is Watching, and He is forgiving._

_I hope you live a happy, fulfilling life._

_Blake._

‘Stupid note.’ Daryl grunted, rolling his eyes. He had hoped the note actually said something that could help them, but whoever that Blake little bitch was, he had run away even though he promised them that it was safe and that God was watching. That was nothing, in Daryl’s opinion.

But Beth was happy. Beth was happy with whatever they had found, and she couldn’t help but feel right at home at Church.

So Daryl promised to stay for a day.

And then one day turned into one week, which turned into a month, and then Beth had turned nineteen and they were still in the same Church, living the same happy life.

After their discoveries while they were on the road, on the run – running from everyone and everything – Beth discovered a lot about herself. She discovered that she liked to watch how Daryl struggled to contain himself around her; to contain his strength, to contain his grunts and his moans. Her blue eyes usually flutter open as she hears his first grunt and sees Daryl slowly but surely destroying the walls that he built around himself, exposing himself to her in the most beautiful way.

Daryl licks; he’s not scared of opening her legs and digging in, licking a path down her thighs and finally reaching where he’s supposed to, where he was always destined to be buried in. He does it with pleasure too, and she wants, she _fights,_ to keep her eyes open for that. He whimpers with his tongue inside her, and sometimes she thinks these nights are just a dream – they’re a blessing when everything’s outside is so messy, so chaotic.

Daryl never speaks while he’s at it; but he doesn’t need to, because as Beth looks into his eyes, she knows that the storm that’s usually deep buried into his blue eyes is now at peace while he’s between her legs. And she’s thankful for that.

She trusts her hips against his tongue, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, but he pushes her back down into the mattress.

When she says she had never done anything, he understands. He understands that he’s supposed to stop, and that they’re in a fucking Church, for _God’s_ sake, and that-

And that Beth Greene is whimpering under him, _begging him_ , to feel him.

So that’s what he does. At first he’s slow, careful; he tries to be good enough for her even though he knows he won’t.

Beth is suddenly singing her own song, a mix of moans and grunts and sighs, and it’s the most beautiful thing that Daryl has ever heard.

»»

It’s exactly eleven weeks after Christmas that Beth starts throwing up.

Christmas was beautiful; it was the most beautiful Christmas that Daryl had ever witnessed and he was happy that he had the opportunity to be there and share it with Beth. He didn’t have many Christmas, back when he was a kid. He would usually spend Christmas Night crying because he didn’t get anything and because he was sure he wasn’t a good kid and that was why Santa hadn’t visited him or, when he was older, he would spend it drinking or with Merle in some alley completely wiped out of their memories of the morning.

He was glad he had the opportunity to have a different Christmas.

But as he was grabbing Beth’s hair and she dumped the contents of her stomach in the backyard, he knew damn well they should have been more careful. He knew what was coming.

‘Can you-’

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Daryl kissed her forehead and he was gone in a second. He had never thought he would be shaking; he had never thought his hands would be shaking in a run, grabbing such small – yet important – item with his bare hands in the middle of the apocalypse.

As the two lines appeared, Beth smiled.

Daryl wanted to cry.

And it wasn’t because he was happy.

He wasn’t ready to be a father. He was scared, actually. It was hard being a father when the world wasn’t going to shit, but he couldn’t help but be scared of the idea of raising a kid in the middle of the apocalypse, with the dead roaming the earth and resources that were hard to find. It had been beautiful yet so hard back when they did it with Judith.

He also couldn’t help but be scared that he wouldn’t be a good father, that he would beat his kid – but he shook his head and interrupted his own thoughts. _No._ He wouldn’t do that. He knew he would never touch his fucking kid. And fuck, he wasn’t only his father and that wasn’t only his kid – that was Beth’s kid too.

He was outside sitting down while smoking a cigarette. Beth sat down next to him and with a startle, he immediately put the cigarette out. Beth smiled at his gesture.

‘Are you happy?’ Daryl would rather not answer that. ‘Because I am. Because it’s you, and I couldn’t ask for a better father for my children.’

He smirked.

‘Ya gotta keep on remindin’ me sometimes.’

So for nine months, that’s what she did.

»»

He was smoking a cigarette outside, _really_ away from Beth and their child, when he _felt_ her screaming inside.

He ran, and she was bleeding.

Beth Greene was bleeding everywhere, the blood staining her clothes and her perfect blonde hair. Daryl ran to her as her knees gave up and hit the floor with a loud thump, making her grunt in pain.

‘Beth? Beth, talk to me.’ Daryl begged, but Beth was scared. He had never seen Beth so scared in her entire life, not even when her Daddy was dying in front of her.

‘I don’t know.’ She cried out, trying to get out of her pants as hiccups slurred her speech; Beth was nervous. Beth Greene, the creature that had been calm and stayed put during 9 months, was now starting to panic. ‘I think- I think the baby is suffering. You have to cut me open.’

Daryl Dixon was pale. He was pale and he couldn’t breathe and everything was his fault – he was the one that knocked her up, after all. So he breathed in, breathed out, and opened Beth’s legs. And he was no Doctor, he didn’t understand, but something was happening.

But he didn’t see a head.

‘I ain’t gonna cut ya Beth, ya gonna have to push.’

Life in the apocalypse was unpredictable. Daryl could kill a few walkers, but he couldn’t help someone give birth. Not when that certain someone was the love of his life carrying their child. He simply couldn’t.

But he had to: because Daryl was the oldest and he was her man. He was supposed to provide for her.

Things were never easy for Daryl Dixon

Beth was screaming, her blood was screaming and her tears were mixing with Daryl’s sweat as he swore that he saw a head, that he was seeing something, that _we’re almost there Beth, keep pushing,_ without really know what he was saying, what he was talking about.

His son or daughter was going to be born and Daryl couldn’t even let himself cry in happiness; instead he was crying in agony as he watched Beth cry and scream and writhe in pain as she tried to put their child, their perfect creation, into the world, where they could welcome him or her with open arms.

Daryl thought his world was going to explode as blood kept _pouring, pouring, and pouring_ – so much blood, so much screaming, and nothing. Nothing was coming out, nothing was happening.

Daryl couldn’t do anything but kiss Beth as he watched life escaping from her eyes, screams stuck on her throat. As she was taking her last breaths, Daryl was also taking his.

‘Daryl?’ She called out to him; she sounded so away, like she was already going somewhere else. And Daryl couldn’t do anything. ‘I want to sing. I’m going to sing, Daryl.’

Beth Greene started singing.

Daryl Dixon looked at His portrait, beautifully hang in the walls of the Church, in the walls of their Home.

God’s eyes were full of hope. It was a shame that Daryl didn’t believe in God.

**III. Then**

‘Daddy?’ Daryl straightened himself up. He never cried in front of Blake. Never. The words got stuck on his throat, not really knowing how to finish up the story – he never did, because it still hurt. Even though it had been 5 years ago, the cuts and the wounds were still fresh. He could still feel the blood pouring and escaping through his fingers, he could still feel himself losing it slowly yet surely, just like he had seen Rick losing it. He had been slipping into insanity that night, he had been almost there; he felt it. ‘How does the story end?’

Daryl takes a deep breath, and then he hears it.

Sometimes he thinks he can still hear her sing.

‘Mommy! You’re home!’

As sunshine itself walks into the room, swoops in her daughter in her arms and adjusts her to her hip as she kisses her in the forehead, Daryl is sure he can still hear her sing.

As Beth Greene walks to her husband and places a kiss on his lips, taking his hand on hers and humming a song between her lips, he smiles. Blake is now resting her head on her mother’s shoulder – Daryl sometimes wondered how Beth Greene was able to create an exact copy of herself – and starts humming the exact same song. The exact same song that Beth Greene sang five years ago as the world exploded in pain and blood around her.

Daryl smiles; he can still hear _them_ sing. 


End file.
